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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553453">The swing under the willow tree</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitKat404/pseuds/KitKat404'>KitKat404</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emma's grandfather gave her the guitar and taught her to play, F/F, Her grandfather is in this, I will fight anyone on that, This is mostly fluff with just a little bit of angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:28:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,139</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitKat404/pseuds/KitKat404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma reflects back on memories with her grandfather while sitting on the bench swing they built and hung from the willow tree in their meadow.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alyssa Greene/Emma Nolan, Emma Nolan &amp; Emma Nolan's Grandmother (The Prom Musical)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The swing under the willow tree</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know it's been months I'm sorry! The lyrics at the end are from Soldier, Poet, King by The Oh Hellos</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As they sat on the bench swing, Emma's mind began to wander back to old memories from this very meadow. Days spent with her grandfather (or papa as she liked to call him), just spending time together whenever they could. Emma looked over at the stream that ran along the edge near the tree line and it was as if the memory was playing out right before her eyes.</p>
<p>Emma was around six years old, and she was visiting her grandparents for a three day weekend. She had begged her grandpa to take her to the meadow that Sunday afternoon in late April. And he had happily agreed, loading the two of them into his truck and making the short drive to the woods. He even brought his guitar. They had spent a few hours just singing songs and telling stories, papa even showed Emma how to make a flower chain using the pretty wildflowers that grew all around them. Emma placed hers on his head and called him king of the forest. He told her that if he was king it was only right for her to be the princess. He had then struck up a medieval-sounding tune on his guitar, crowing out words about soldiers and poets and kings, as Emma began to dance among the flowers. She got a bit too close to the stream and with one well-timed spin, she landed with a splash right into the water. Her grandpa was at her side in an instant, but aside from a surprised squeal, Emma wasn't upset about getting soaked like many kids would be; in fact, she was laughing. Her grandfather helped her up, placing her flower crown back on her head from where it had fallen into the grass, and lead her back over to the sunbathed rocks they had been sitting on, where they spent the better half of the next hour letting Emma dry. Back then, there hadn't been a swing in the tree yet. </p>
<p>Emma runs her hand over the aging wood of the bench, brushing her fingers over the sturdy chains holding her and her girlfriend off the ground. She remembers when they built this bench. Her tenth birthday fell on a Tuesday, so she was celebrating with her grandparents the weekend before. Papa had told her he had a fun surprise and that they were going to the meadow, and Emma had clambered into the truck with no hesitation. He put a toolbox and a bunch of wood and some heavy-duty chains into the bed of the truck and then they were on their way. They spent the latter half of the morning and most of the afternoon laying down wood and nailing it together, putting the bench together plank by plank, and Emma got to climb into the tree and secure the chains in place among the branches. It was approaching dinner time when Emma was lifted out of the tree by her grandpa and sat on the new bench swing. She tugged gently on the chains, the swing held firm. She grinned at her grandfather, kicking her legs and pushing the swing back, allowing it to sway forward gently. Her grandfather told her he had one more surprise for her; Emma's birthday present. She sat on the swing and covered her eyes, when her grandfather told her to open them, she almost started crying. Papa held in his hands a brand new guitar, his much old, well-loved guitar leaning against the tree next to the swing. Emma had nearly tackled him in a hug, thank yous' spilling from her mouth. </p>
<p>"Now we can play together." He had told her.</p>
<p>They spent the rest of the afternoon tuning Emma's guitar and playing covers of Beatles songs. It was one of the best birthdays Emma had ever had.</p>
<p>Eighth grade, a few months before her grandfather passed, it was a good week and Emma asked her grandpa if he was up for a trip to the meadow. She was thirteen now, and he seemed to have deemed her capable of understanding deeper concepts. They had been having very deep, heavy conversations over the last few months, papa told Emma he was trying to teach her everything he thought she would need to know while he still had time. They had been having one of those conversations, and the topic sat heavily on Emma's heart. Her grandpa spoke of acceptance and love, respecting others and treating them with kindness even when they showed no kindness in return.</p>
<p>"If everyone is rude to each other, humanity would be made up of miserable people." Papa had said.</p>
<p>"Be kind to others as you wish them to be kind to you. Never judge someone for something out of their control. That's the biggest lesson I could ever teach you. Too many people are judgemental of things that nobody can help. They hold their standards high in the clouds, a height so few can reach, and look down on any who can't reach those impossible heights. Never let yourself sink to that level."</p>
<p>Emma had nodded along, soaking in these words like a sponge. A thought popped into her head, one so crazy that for a moment she let it sit in her head, just existing while she tried to untangle and process it. It was a secret she had vowed to take to her grave ever since she figured it out, but if she was going to tell anyone, it would be papa. And she might not have much time left to tell him. So she took a deep breath, and then another. Her grandfather watched patiently as if he could tell she was trying to say something.</p>
<p>"Grandpa?"</p>
<p>"Yes, Emmy?"</p>
<p>She took another deep breath, "I need to tell you something. I've been thinking about it a lot recently, and it's something I've known about for a while. I haven't told anyone but this is a part of me that I want to share with you because I love you and trust you more than anyone else in the world. It may be scary and confusing, and I don't expect you to understand, but I just want you to know."</p>
<p>Papa looked a bit concerned, but his eyes conveyed safety. Whatever she needed to tell him, he was ready to listen, and provide any help or comfort she might need. Emma breathed deeply for a moment before she opened her mouth.</p>
<p>"Papa...I'm gay."</p>
<p>There it was, it was out. Her grandpa knew, and she couldn't take it back now. Emma bowed her head, avoiding his eyes in fear of what she might find. He didn't say anything for a moment, and Emma was fighting back tears. But then there was a hand covering hers, a calloused thumb rubbing circles onto the back of her hand soothingly. Emma met her grandfather's eyes and saw nothing but kindness and acceptance.</p>
<p>"Thank you for telling me, Emma. I know that must not have been easy for you. I love you so much Emmy, you're my granddaughter, my world, and nothing will ever change that. Do you understand?"</p>
<p>Emma choked on a sob, nodding her head vigorously as her tears finally fell. Papa enveloped her in a warm, loving hug, rubbing her back in gentle circles as she cried into his shoulder. They sat like that for an indeterminable amount of time. When they finally separated, papa reached up a withered hand to dry her tears, as he had always done whenever Emma cried. Whether she had fallen off her bike and scraped her knee, or her parents yelled at her, papa always wiped away her tears and put a smile back on her face. This was no exception. He got a teasing glint in his eye as Emma collected herself.</p>
<p>"So, your winter formal is coming up soon..."</p>
<p>"Oh god, papa please don't."</p>
<p>His smile was mischievous, and he continued as if she hadn't spoken at all. </p>
<p>"Are there any nice girls you're thinking of asking?"</p>
<p>Emma groaned audibly, rolling her eyes even as her lips quirked up in an involuntary smile. Her grandpa chuckled, raising his hands defensively when Emma swatted a hand (gently) in his direction. </p>
<p>"In Edgewater, Indiana? Please."</p>
<p>The two laughed for a moment, and Emma felt at ease for the first time since their conversation had started. Her grandpa knew she was a lesbian, and he still loved her. He accepted her. He didn't hate her. Emma felt relieved, it was so nice to finally tell someone and not have to keep it all to herself. She pondered his question for a moment, feeling color rise to her cheeks as she realized there was indeed a girl she had been thinking about. She didn't even have the chance to tell him, he already seemed to know.</p>
<p>"What's her name?"</p>
<p>Emma flushed brighter, the tips of her ears going red. She stuttered for a moment before actually managing a coherent sentence. </p>
<p>"Well, um, her name is Alyssa."</p>
<p>"That's a pretty name, what's she like?"</p>
<p>"She's one of the kindest, prettiest girls I've ever met. She has bronze skin, curly dark hair, and the softest brown eyes I've ever seen."</p>
<p>Emma's voice was fond, and her expression had turned wistful as she lost herself in a daydream. Papa smiled at the sight, he could tell Emma was already gone for this girl.</p>
<p>"She wears pretty dresses and swishy skirts with flowy tops. But it's not just her looks! She's kind and gentle and she actually <em>smiles</em> at me in the hallways. She's a cheerleader, but she's not mean like most of the other girls on the team. And she's so smart too! She works hard and does a lot of clubs around school, I don't think I'll ever understand how she keeps up with it all..."</p>
<p>Emma trails off, fully drifting into the daydream her mind had conjured. Papa watched, amused, and she stared off into space. Clearly, this girl was important to his Emma, and he could tell she made Emma happy. He just hoped things worked out well for them.</p>
<p>"Well, I just hope this Alyssa knows how wonderful you are. I can bet you that once she hears you play and maybe even sing, she won't be able to resist you."</p>
<p>He threw in a wink for good measure. Emma blushed bright, and the bashful giggle that left her mouth made him smile.</p>
<p>Emma's eyes grew misty, a sad smile gracing her lips as she thought back on that particular moment. It was one of the last happy memories she had of her grandfather, papa's cancer had gotten much worse in the months after and it wasn't long before he was gone completely. Emma had cried for three days straight after they got home from the hospital, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand. Her grandmother had asked the doctor to print out her grandfather's last heartbeat and had given the paper to Emma, telling her to keep it safe as a reminder that papa was never truly gone. It was one of the few things Emma had taken with her when her parents kicked her out, along with her guitar among other things. When she turned sixteen, Emma got the heartbeat print tattooed over her own heart. Nan had cried when she showed her, and the two spent the rest of that evening sharing old stories of papa.</p>
<p>Emma was brought out of her thought by the feeling of fingers interlacing with her own. She glanced over and smiled at the woman sitting next to her. Beautiful bronze skin, bouncy, dark curls, and the softest, warmest brown eyes Emma had ever seen. Alyssa Greene was one of the kindest, smartest people Emma had ever met and was certainly the most beautiful. </p>
<p>"You doing okay?"</p>
<p>Emma smiled softly. Alyssa rubbed her thumb over the back of Emma's hand gently, and as a gentle breeze blew past them, she could almost feel the ghost of an old, calloused hand brushing her cheek. </p>
<p>"Yeah, I'm okay."</p>
<p>Alyssa smiled and leaned over to press a tender kiss to Emma's lips. The blonde's eyes slid shut as she reached a hand up to cup her girlfriend's cheek. The two parted after a few moments, and Alyssa shifted closer on the swing. Emma grabbed her guitar from where it was leaning against the tree. She adjusted her glasses and Alyssa pushed her feet against the ground, building up a gentle sway. The brunette laid her head on her girlfriend's shoulder, as Emma tuned the strings and started strumming a soft melody. That warm breeze blew past again, and Emma smiled.</p>
<p>
  <em>"There will come a ruler, who's brow is laid in thorn. Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord."</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoyed reading this, I'm supposed to be doing homework right now.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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